


A Light Touch

by lea_hazel



Series: Decline and Fall [8]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Background Character Death, Backstory, Brother-Sister Relationships, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hair Brushing, Princes & Princesses, Problematic Friendship, Revaire, Verbal Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: Gisette and Verity have a conversation that's almost friendly, almost sisterly, almost honest, but somehow none of those things after all.





	A Light Touch

A light knock on her bedroom door alerted Verity in time to hastily tuck away her journals and unfinished letters, closing them under the lid of her desk. Not that she necessarily expected that someone could read them at a glance, but they might notice something odd about them that didn't add up. She didn't really need anyone to know that her letters to Constance were written partly in code. Even the knowledge that she _could_  be hiding something seemed like dangerous information to allow someone to hold, but then, perhaps she was being paranoid.

Revaire was a good place for cultivating paranoia.

All the same, she hid her unfinished letter and the cipher pages of her journal, and set out a similarly unfinished but more benign letter to Penelope of Wellin.

"Who is it, Petra?" she called out. "It's rather late for visitors."

"Surely not too late to receive your dear sister," said Gisette, strolling in, wearing a pink bed-coat and her hair in a single, long braid, her face as coolly serene as Verity had ever seen it.

"What timing, sister," said Verity. "I had just finished writing a letter."

"Then you must have a moment or two to spare for me," said Gisette sweetly, "I hope."

"Milady," said Petra, standing attentively at the doorway. "Your hair still needs combing and braiding."

"Consider yourself dismissed, Petra," said Gisette.

Petra lingered in the doorway.

"It's quite all right, Petra," said Verity. "Please, take the rest of the evening to yourself. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Gisette strolled through the room at her leisure, examining her vanity table and everything on it.

"What lovely combs you have," she said, too casually.

"A gift," said Verity, "from my mother. Chosen by her own maids, no doubt. They understand well the trials of managing such a mane of curls."

Gisette laughed pleasantly. "You get your hair from your mother, then."

"The curls," said Verity, "not the color."

"That's right," said Gisette, picking up a silver comb and twirling it between her fingers. "Your brother the Prince also has curly hair, but his is dark."

"You've seen a portrait of his, I suppose," said Verity.

She knew for a fact that Dion had never left Arland, anymore than she had before the summit. And if the Princess of Revaire had been in the Arland royal palace, even her father would not have managed to keep such news from her.

"I believe Lady Nerissa mentioned it the other day," said Gisette, her honeyed voice taking on a poisonous undertone.

Verity smiled her blandest Arland porcelain doll smile. So that was her game, then.

"Lady Nerissa," she said, "has been most thoughtful in taking an interest in my family. I have been happy to discuss them with her."

Gisette's eyes glanced on the letter under her hands and away from it. "You must miss your family dreadfully."

Verity rose from her desk and advanced her position to the vanity table. Disregarding Gisette's hand leaning against the surface, she sat herself on the stool in front of the looking glass. Her combs, other than the one in Gisette's hand still, were neatly arranged in their velvet-lined box, gleaming silver. Glass bottles of various balms and liquids were aligned to one side.

"I need that," she said, gesturing to the comb in Gisette's hand, "if you please."

"Oh, please," said Gisette too sweetly, "let me."

Verity couldn't help the look on her face, which made Gisette laugh.

"Don't worry, darling Verity," she said. "I know perfectly well how to treat curls as magnificent as yours."

"Do you," asked Verity, her voice flat.

Gisette's touch was cool and light as she gathered Verity's loose hair in her hands. She ran her fingers through it, gently untangling some of the larger knots and snares. Separating out a section of hair, she began running the coarse comb through the very ends of it. She proved as skilled as she had insisted, and Verity had to remind herself not to succumb to the soothing effects of the treatment. When the Princess of Revaire was around, constant vigilance was the order of the day.

But when she spoke again, the Princess's voice had a strange, dreamy quality. "I knew a girl once, by the name of Evangeline," she said. "She had hair like yours, the most splendid curls, and the darkest black I had ever seen. She used to let me comb and braid it, just like this. When she stretched out the curls, they came well past her waist."

"What happened to her?" asked Verity despite herself.

Gisette's smile in the looking glass was thin and pained. "Her father was one of Papa's generals, and her mother was a lady from Jiyel, the daughter of one of their ministers. One day the General's garrison was ambushed by separatists and he was badly injured in the skirmish that followed. His soldiers tried transporting him back to the city to get treatment, but his wound took septic. By the time they got here the physician said it was too late, there was nothing she could do. Evangeline's mother was so grief-stricken, she took Evangeline and all her sisters back to Jiyel, to live with her brother."

"That's awful," said Verity, stricken.

Gisette shook her head. "She was much safer in Jiyel than she ever would be here. She knew it then, and I knew it too. Revaire is quite dangerous, Verity," she smiled again, "I don't know if you'd noticed."

Verity nodded once, sharply.

"But for some of us," said Gisette with a sigh, "the reward is worth any risk. But I mustn't speak of such glum things. You'll get quite the wrong impression of me, I'm afraid."

"Not at all, sister," said Verity, recruiting her best polite smile into service once again. "I'm pleased you felt able to confide in me."

"My dear," said Gisette, "what else is family for?"

Verity laughed, a bell-like sound, small and composed.

Gisette reached to put away the comb in her hand and picked up a second, more fine-toothed one. Once again, she began working her way through Verity's hair, from the tips upward.

"I hope, Verity," she said as she worked, "that you will feel just as easy in your mind confiding to me."

"Depend on it," said Verity.

"So tell me," asked Gisette, "how do you feel about your upcoming nuptials? More excited, or more nervous?"

"A measure of both, I think," said Verity with a sigh.

"To be quite frank, I would have expected you to be more nervous than excited, my dear," said Gisette, "but I suppose you have been training all your life for this particular battle."

"Very much so," said Verity. "I suppose I'm more concerned that I'll no longer be able to say that the grandest party I ever attended was one I threw myself."

Gisette laughed. "I daresay even Mama will struggle to surpass your genius in event planning, Verity. Don't tell her I said that."

"Your secret is safe with me," said Verity. "However, I do believe Her Majesty will benefit from having longer than a week in which to plan."

"And having a guest list of five hundred or so," added Gisette.

"Goodness!" said Verity, clapping a palm to her mouth.

"Which reminds me," said Gisette, "of my original purpose in coming here tonight."

Verity doubted that very much. Whatever Gisette's true purpose, she expected it would take her most of tomorrow to puzzle it out. Possibly longer. She suspected it had something to do with Lady Nerissa, but perhaps that barb was merely a distraction, after all.

"If you mean to ask," she said, taking a stab in the dark, "who my father will send as Arland's representative for the wedding, I'm afraid I've no idea at all."

"Not your brother, surely," said Gisette pleasantly.

"Dion?" asked Verity, startled. "Goodness, no. We should both be so lucky."

"You miss him terribly, don't you?" asked Gisette, her voice cloying with false sympathy.

Verity gently shrugged her shoulders, careful not to disturb Gisette's work in dressing her hair. "We're twins," she said. "It's different than other siblings."

"Perhaps," said Gisette, reaching into a carved box on the table to draw out a colorful ribbon, "you'll be fortunate enough to meet a few _familiar faces_  at the wedding, all the same."

"God willing," agreed Verity, as primly as only a well-bred Arland maiden knew how.

"There," said Gisette, tying off the ribbon neatly and smoothing both hands over Verity's head. "It's done. What do you think?"

"Remarkable," said Verity. "It's almost a shame that you shall never be required of such services, you do such an artful job of it."

This time Gisette's laugh had a knife's edge, less subtle than before. Verity wasn't certain whether she'd angered her, or whether perhaps the Princess considered this to be opening up. Her new sister, she found, was just as troublesome as the old one, albeit in a very different way. Almost infinitely more likely than Constance to try and murder her, for one. Although Verity didn't truly believe that Gisette was interested in doing her harm, anymore. She might even be interested in her prosperity, if only as an extension of the family she was evidently so devoted to.

Gisette leaned over and kissed the top of her head. It was a strange sensation, to be sure.

"Get some sleep, Verity," she said. "I will be by tomorrow to take you to the stables. It's high time we found you a horse more suitable to the dignity of a Crown Princess."

"You're too kind," said Verity.

"Nonsense, my dear," said Gisette, and disappeared out the door with a small wave of her fingers.


End file.
